


Snape's Day Off

by YukiRiikus_Reading_Room



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Cute, Gen, Memory Related, Sad Snape, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:57:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukiRiikus_Reading_Room/pseuds/YukiRiikus_Reading_Room
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron, Hermione, and Harry sit on the lawn discussing what they think their professors do on their days off.</p><p>They couldn't be farther from the truth when it comes to their ideas for Professor Snape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snape's Day Off

“Don’t you just love when Dumbledore cancels classes?”  Ron smiled, flopping down next to Harry on the grass under their favorite tree near the lake, Hermione giving him a sour look over the top of her book.

“You do know they were cancelled because a second year Hufflepuff blew up a significant portion of the East Wing for you to get your day off?”  She said angrily, Ron rolling his eyes as she went back to reading huffing at him under her breath. 

“Do you ever wondering what the professors do on their days off, or their weekends?”  Harry asked suddenly, Hermione looking up with interested.  Ron sighed again, slumping against his shoulder in disinterest.

  
 ”I overheard a seventh year Ravenclaw telling her friend yesterday that at Halloween, Professor Flitwick dresses as a lawn gnome and waits perfectly still in Muggle yards to scare the pants off of children during Trick or Treat.”

“Bloody hell, I’d love to see that!”  Ron laughed, Hermione trying to hide her smile behind her hand and failing.  “What about Dumbledore?  What do you think he does?”

“Knitting, maybe?”  Harry suggested, their laughter drawing the attention of a few Ravenclaws walking by on their way to swim in the lake.  “I could see him falling asleep reading the Daily Prophet on the beach, too.”

“Or yodeling, with that beard of his.”  Ron grinned, turning to look just as Snape exited the steps heading for towards the greenhouses with Professor Sprout.  “Oy, what do you think Snape does?” 

“Probably thinks up interesting ways to murder me once we’re out of school.”  Harry grumbled, Hermione patting his knee comfortingly in response.

“Well, he certainly doesn’t wash his hair, that’s for sure.”  Ron muttered. 

“Lay off before someone overhears.  Honestly, it’s like you two are always raring for a fight with anyone who’ll indulge you.”  Hermione hissed, her face going pink as a group of sixth year  Slytherins walked by  giving them hard, calculating looks. 

“Alright woman, calm down and don’t get your wand in a twist.  We’ll be good.”  Ron snickered, leaning his shoulder back against Harry’s looking out over the lawn.  “Seriously though, I would like to know what he does with his free holidays…”

 

******

 

Down in the dungeons after putting away his newly collected supply of ingredients from Professor Sprout’s greenhouses, Snape shut himself up in his office being careful to lock the door behind him and set up warning spells to alert him if anyone approached his office.  Once he was sure everything was ready, he turned to his desk and reached for his pensive.

He knew it might be pathetic, that if anyone found out, they would scoff at him or else pervert his intentions, but he couldn’t help it. 

Whenever he could, whenever he had a break from teaching, he always found his way back to his childhood - back to her.

His favorite was a particularly fine summer night a few weeks before they had to leave for their first year of Hogwarts.  When his parent's fighting had gotten to be too much he'd snuck out of the house - not that they would even have noticed he was gone, if he was being honest with himself - and gone straight to her window as if pulled their by gravity.  He knew, looking up at her dimly lit window, that he'd from then on always find his way back to her.   He'd been surprised when she'd opened her windows after the second pebble he threw, and even more surprised when she immediately climbed out of her window and down the tressil to meet him.  When he'd offered her his hand, she hadn't even hesitated to smile and take it, to let him lead her wherever he wanted to go.

There was something blinding about her trust in that memory, even decades later when he looked back on it.  

They'd gone to the clearing in the woods - their clearing, the one where they went during the hot days to hide from the searing sun and to avoid Petunia - and laid on the grass holding hands, their eyes flitting between the moon and each other.  When a cloud plunged them into total darkness and Lily shivered, clearly worried, he effortlessly focused his magic on bringing a small cluster of luminescent butterflys popping into existence.  

Her smile had been so wonderful, so awed, it still melted him.  

He knew he could have chosen memories where they were older, where he thought she was lovelier or loved her a little more ardently, but those memories were where she hated him for insulting her, for siding with the wrong people when he hadn’t needed to.  He chose childhood because of their innocence, and the simple way they’d cared about each other before James Potter had even been a part of the equation.

He chose childhood because, in that time in his life, there had still be a chance that she could have grown to love him if only things had gone a little differently


End file.
